


What's there to talk about?

by Anonymous



Series: Feed Me, Also, River God [14]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Arguing, Dialogue Heavy, First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, trying to clear the air only makes matters worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's there to talk about?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haldoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haldoor/gifts).



> Takes place somewhere in the middle of s1, before everything goes downhill.
> 
> Many thanks and even more love to Neurotoxia for beta, constant support and all her wonderful suggestions. Without her, I wouldn't have been done this year.

After ten minutes of staring vacantly at the ice cubes diluting the dregs of his bourbon, Tommy shook himself out of his early morning reverie. The club had been packed tonight and some stragglers had stayed long after the official closing hours, delaying Tommy's alone time until the last security guard had vacated the building.

Not that being alone was such a good idea. When Tommy was alone, he started brooding. Especially when he was too tired to stop himself. He had a lot to brood about lately. Beginning with his father and ending with Ollie. 

Ever since their last heart-to-heart (or what passed for one with Oliver Queen), Tommy no longer knew how to behave around his best friend. The island had changed Ollie in ways that had made Tommy both curious and suspicious. He'd wanted to know what had happened - and now wished he'd never asked. Some secrets best remained buried.

Afterwards, he'd started noticing his friend in ways he never had before. His fitness, his reflexes, his Zen-like attitude... It had gotten to the point where Oliver's mere presence was distracting, because Tommy had become _aware_ of him and had started paying attention to the minute shifts in his behavior.

Tommy'd become awkward enough around his best friend that even Laurel had commented on it.

"I don't know what's going on between you two," she'd said, "but you better resolve it quickly. I'm not going to put up with his moping much longer."

So far, no opportunity had opened up though. They were both so busy. (That Tommy hadn't actively sought one out was beside the point. It was easier to avoid the issue. Or would be, if it weren't for Laurel's nagging.)

However, as luck would have it, he ran into an opportunity on his way out of the office.

"Ollie? What are you doing here?"

His best friend was crossing the dance floor, a rasping following each step when the sole came unglued from the sticky patches where drinks had spilled and dried earlier.

"Unless I made a gross mistake in our contract, I still own this nightclub, Tommy."

"Sure. I'm just not used to seeing you a lot around here. Especially so early."

Oliver frowned at his watch. "I prefer to see it as late if I haven't slept yet."

"Fair enough," Tommy said and gestured toward the door he'd wobbled out of. He felt a bit woozy and was beginning to question the wisdom of drinking that last glass of whiskey. "Did you need anything from the office? I was just about to lock up."

"Actually, I came here for you." Oliver's smile was a mask. Tommy knew it only too well, possessing one just like it. 

"Let me guess: Laurel started annoying you, too."

"She very politely requested my aid in cheering you up and doing myself a favor."

"Are we talking about the same Laurel here? A polite request?"

Ollie chuckled. "Yeah, I made that one up."

Awkward silence. You'd think they wouldn't crop up between best friends, but here Tommy was, struggling for a topic that sounded suitably relevant to their interests without revealing his misgivings. Trying to start a conversation with this taciturn new version of his best friend required mental faculties he didn't possess at the moment. Especially if he had to evade certain topics.

Keeping secrets from Ollie was almost impossible, partly because he'd never had to. Except maybe that thing with Laurel, but that hadn't exactly been a secret to begin with. They'd been trying to figure out where they stood with each other, and God, if this wasn't the worst possible moment to be thinking of Laurel.

Tommy told himself the pounding in his chest was because of the alcohol – not the swallowed resentment – in his system.

*

Tommy had been acting weird since Oliver "accidentally" let slip that he'd had sexual relations with Slade during his time on the island. He was sure that once Tommy learned why Oliver stayed quiet about what had happened there – or one version of it – he'd want to keep his distance.

But instead of alienating him, Tommy desperately tried to convince both Oliver and himself that everything was Fine, no reason to make a fuss. He wanted to appear as if he weren't bothered by Oliver's sexual preferences at all.

"Honestly," Tommy slurred. "I don't know what there's to talk about."

They'd moved back into the office, the closed room offering more privacy than the open space of the empty club. There was a sofa on one side as a kind of lounging area for guests whose business with Tommy was of a more casual nature.

"I think you do," Oliver said.

"And _I_ think this isn't the right time."

"It's as good as any."

"You really want to follow Laurel's relationship advice at half past five in the morning?"

He didn't, but after an unsuccessful hunt for Doug Miller, he'd noticed that he hadn't been all there. (Or, he'd noticed once Diggle and Felicity had pointed it out to him.) He couldn't go on like this; he needed his head in the game.

When he'd seen the lights on inside the club, he'd decided to check if Tommy was still around. Which had been the first step to finding himself in an awkward conversation with his best friend.

"If this is about what I told you the other night..."

Tommy shook his head and sighed. "Look, man. I get it. Being shipwrecked and alone on the island must have been a painful experience for you." He squeezed the bridge of his nose. "God, I'm not sober enough for this." Another deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that it's okay. Whatever you had to do there, it's okay. I don't care. You can leave it behind."

"If it were that easy." The island wasn't anything he could leave behind – it was a part of him now.

"What do you mean?" Tommy squinted at him. "Did you... did you love this Slade guy?"

Now there was a question Oliver was unprepared for. He hadn't even considered it for himself. There had been nothing _to_ consider. "It... wasn't like that."

He tried to keep his face still, but the guilt-ridden memories were boiling beneath the surface.

*

Oliver Queen had always been on top of everything. His name and the money behind it had afforded him a confidence that glowed even in the face of trial – for what could happen if your family was able to pay off complainants and cover up your wrongdoings?

Since he'd returned from the island, Ollie had exuded an air of calm command that had been unlike the Ollie Tommy had known. (Which didn't turn Tommy's knees to jelly when he thought of it. No way.) Nothing got to him anymore, but in that moment Ollie couldn't hide the guilt and shame overcoming his features.

Should Tommy apologize? He'd brought up this touchy subject after all. (What had he been thinking? He'd sounded like a jealous girlfriend.)

"You know what?" he said. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. Let's just move on."

As expected, Ollie wouldn't let him. "Is this what is bothering you?"

"I told you, man." Tommy threw up his hands. He didn't want to fight. "Who you sleep with is none of my business. I'm not judging."

"It does bother you," Ollie said. "Is it because I slept with a man? Do you think that's disgusting? That _I'm_ disgusting?"

Tommy jumped up from the sofa. "What? I told you that's not—" This was getting out of hand.

"You wouldn't have made such a big deal out of it if I'd told you I've been with a woman."

Best advice ever, Laurel. He'd known that however they'd go about it, it would only make matters worse. They were both mischief-makers and let others deal with the fallout. They weren't so adept at patching things up by themselves.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Ollie." He tried to sound calm, but it came out with more spleen than he'd intended. It all went downhill from there. "Do you _want_ to fight? Do you _want_ me to be the homophobe here?" Tommy snorted. "That's rich, coming from you."

Ollie looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, so you conveniently forgot. I should have known. It's what you do, after all."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't."

"Tommy..." Ollie got to his feet.

"Sorry, man," Tommy tried to rein in his ill temper. He took a step away from Ollie. "It's too early for this. Let's just leave it at that."

"Tommy, what's going on? There's something you're not telling me."

"Oh, and you tell me everything, don't you?"

Ollie had been anything but forthcoming since his return. Which was okay. What had happened on the island must have been traumatizing and Tommy wanted to give Ollie all the time he needed to settle back in and get used to his life in Starling City again. But with Ollie hiding his scars, Tommy often forgot to cut him some slack. Which, in a way, wasn't a bad thing: if Ollie didn't want to be coddled, it would be insulting to do so anyway.

Still, his sense of entitlement was infuriating sometimes. Not that Tommy couldn't relate to that, but friendship in his eyes was more quid pro quo than how they were currently handling it.

"You're being unfair, Tommy."

" _I_ am being unfair?" Tommy pointed the fingers of both hands at his chest in indignation. Now that he'd started venting, he couldn't keep it in any longer. Years of suppressed hurt fueled his anger. "Right. Because everyone has to dance to your tune. I forgot that for a second."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed that when _you_ want to forget about something, everyone around you must follow suit and deny its existence too, but when anyone else wants to ignore something, you'll bother them until they spit it out."

"Why do I get the feeling there's a history here?"

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't really want to think about it. The humiliation he'd felt then still burned deep inside his bones.

"Tommy, what is it? Talk to me."

"Here we go again! It's just the case in point. Do you want to make me go through the same embarrassment by telling you again?"

"Again?" Ollie looked honestly stumped and Tommy couldn't blame him. This point in their lives was ancient history indeed and could have stayed that way for all Tommy cared – if this issue with Slade hadn't brought it all to the surface again.

"Back when we were younger, you garnered love confessions wherever we went. You savored them like candy, unless it was a boy who'd mustered up the courage to approach you. Those poor bastards ceased to exist in your eyes because you couldn't stand the thought of being seen as gay."

Ollie's mouth opened and closed. Maybe he was starting to remember. Once he'd found out why Tommy'd been so upset about the way Ollie'd treated those brave souls, disgust had blanched Ollie's features. His best friend had entertained similar notions. They hadn't spoken in over a week, even after Tommy'd attempted to treat it all as nothing more than a joke.

"You..." Ollie said. The bewilderment in his eyes was gone, replaced with a sort of grim determination. He yanked Tommy closer by the lapels. But instead of the reprimand that Tommy expected at that moment ( _that was so long ago, people can change_ , yadda yadda), Ollie kissed him.

Tommy's heart instantly sprang into his throat, tightening his airways. A flash of heat fanned outward from his gut. Oliver Queen was kissing him!

Ollie's lips were insistent against the firm line of Tommy's own. He tried to back away, but Ollie crowded him against the wall next to the sofa. The light switch dug uncomfortably into his spine. His body gave an involuntary shudder when Ollie's hands slid down his lapels and gripped his sides. Tommy groaned and finally let go.

Kissing Ollie was like drinking salt water; he knew it was a bad idea, but he was slaking his thirst. Too many years had gone by denying him this simple but essential pleasure. He doubted he could ever have enough.

Ollie's hands bunched in his shirt, pulling up the fabric, and scorched a trail up Tommy's bare stomach. Filled with the spirit of discovery, Tommy tugged at Ollie's own shirt, needing to touch the blazing skin it hid.

Tommy moaned long and loud when Ollie ground their hips together.

"Fuck," he breathed. This was so much better than he'd ever dreamed. He pressed a hand against the small of Ollie's back, urging him to do it again.

"Is this what you want?" Ollie asked, voice cold and eyes even colder. Those few words sufficed to ram an icicle straight through Tommy, freezing him in place.

"Asshole," he said and socked him one. His knuckles screamed. "Did you enjoy mocking me?"

God. How could he have been so foolish as to fall for that? Of course Ollie was just playing with him. Tommy shoved Ollie away from him and tore open the door.

"Don't forget to lock up," he spat over his shoulders and escaped from the club. He needed to put as much distance between them as quickly as possible and could only hope that would be enough to outrun the hold Oliver Queen still had on him.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem. This not-quite-so-happy ending wasn't the original intention, but it was where the characters dragged me. If anyone wants to pick it up and give them the happy ending they deserve, feel free to do so. I don't see myself doing it in the near future. :)


End file.
